Unit 8   

How do you behave when you're alone? Late at night when no one else is around, do you burst into spontaneous song and dance? roll around on the grass? make faces at the Moon? If you're like most of us, you probably don't do any of these things (very often!) -- in fact you probably don't even talk to yourself (much!). The unwritten rules and regulations of decent behavior -- which some people call “the social contract” -- are an amazingly strong force in our lives. The texts you're going to read in this unit examine the nature of these rules, speculate about why we obey them so automatically, and venture on a brief exploration of the strange territory outside “the social contract”.

Text B

    The "intellectualism" of the French is found at every level of society. The cafe waiter, the taxi driver -- the so-called "little people" of France -- are the most stimulating, if frequently frustrating, conversationalists in the world. Of them all, the most wildly creative are the taxi drivers. I deliberately provoke arguments with them -- an easy thing to do -- to see what they will say next. Of the hundreds of discussions I've had in taxis one remains in my memory as uniquely, superbly French. It couldn't have occurred in any other country, except possibly in Brooklyn, where there exists a species of man similar in spirit, if not in exact form, to the French.

    It was midnight in Paris and we were rolling along the Quai d'Orsay toward the street where I live. As we came to the Pont Alexandre III, the taxi slowed down, for the traffic light was red. Then, without stopping, we sailed through the red light in a sudden burst of speed. The same performance was repeated at the Alma Bridge. As I paid the driver, I asked him why he had run two red lights.

    "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a veteran like you, breaking the law and endangering your life that way," I protested.

    He looked at me, astonished. "Ashamed of myself? Why, I'm proud of myself. I am a decent, honest citizen and have no desire to get killed either." He cut me off as I started to protest. "No, just listen to me before you complain. What did I do? I went through a red light. Well, did you ever stop to consider what a red light is, what it means?"

    "Certainly," I replied. "It's a stop signal and means that traffic is rolling in the other direction."

    "Half-right," said the driver, "but incomplete. A red light is only an automatic stop signal. And it does not mean that there is cross traffic. Did you see any cross traffic during our trip? Of course not. I slowed down at the light, looked carefully to the right and to the left. There was not another car on the streets at this hour. Well, then! What would you have me do? Should I stop like a dumb animal because an automatic, brainless machine turns red every forty seconds? No, monsieur," he thundered, hitting the door with a huge fist. "I am a man, not a machine. I have eyes and a brain and judgment, given me by God, and it would be a sin against nature to surrender them to the dictates of a machine. Ashamed of myself, you say? I would only be ashamed of myself if I let those blinking lamps do my thinking for me. Good night, monsieur."

    Is this bad, is this good? Frankly I no longer am sure. The intellectual originality of the French is a corrupting influence if you are subjected to it for long. I had never before doubted that it was wrong to drive through a red light. After more than a decade of life in Paris, however, I find my old Anglo-Saxon standards somewhat shaken. I still think it is wrong to drive through a stop signal, except possibly very late at night, after having carefully checked to make sure there is no cross traffic. After all, I am a man, not a machine.                          (568 words)

戴维·舍恩布龙

    法国人的“理智主义”存在于社会的各个阶层。咖啡馆侍者、出租车司机这些所谓的法国“小人物”是世界上最令人兴奋的健谈者，虽然他们也常常惹人恼怒。他们中间最异想天开别出心裁的是出租车司机。我故意挑起跟他们的争论--这很容易办到--看看他们接着会说什么。在出租车上进行的成百次争论中，有一次争论一直令我至今难忘，我觉得它具有独特的、妙不可言的法国味。它决不会发生在别的国家，也许除了纽约的布鲁克林区，因为那儿有一种人，虽说在外貌上不一定但在精神上却与法国人相似。

   那是在巴黎的一个午夜，我们沿着凯道赛驶向我住的那条大街。当我们来到亚历山大三世桥时，出租车放慢了速度，因为前面亮着红灯。然后，车并未停下，而是猛一加速稳稳地穿过了红灯。到了阿尔马桥又故伎重演。在我付钱给司机时，我问他为什么连闯两个红灯。

  “你应该自己感到羞愧，像你这样的老司机也会违章，那样玩命。”我不满地说道。

   他看着我，很是惊讶。“自己感到羞愧? 嗨，我还为自己感到骄傲呢。我是个正派、 诚实的公民，也不想玩命。"我正欲分辩，他打断了我。"不，你先别有意见，你听我说。我做了什么呢? 闯了个红灯。那么，你是否费心想过红灯是什么，它意味着什么?”

  “当然想过啦，”我答道，“红灯是个停车信号，意味着另一个方向车辆在行驶。”

  “答对了一半，”那司机说，“但不完全。红灯只是个自动的停车信号，并不意味着有交叉车流。一路上你看到有交叉车流吗？当然没有。我在红灯前减慢了车速，左右都仔细地看过了。这个时候街上别的车一辆也没有。那么，你说我该怎么办? 难道就因为一台没有思想的自动机器每40秒钟转红一次，我就该像头哑巴牲口一样停下来吗?不，先生，”他一边大声吼叫，一边用硕大的拳头砸着车门，“我是人，不是机器。我有眼睛，有脑子，有判断力，这都是上帝给我的，要是把它们拱手相让，听任机器的摆布，那简直是违背天意的罪孽。你说我该自己感到羞愧? 我要是让那些闪烁的灯来代替我思考，我才会自己感到羞愧呢！晚安，先生。”

   这种做法到底是坏还是好? 老实说，我也不那么有把握了。如果你长期受到法国人这种独特的理性思维的影响，你就会受到腐蚀。闯红灯是错的，这一点我以前从未怀疑过。但在巴黎生活了十几年后，我发觉自己传统的那些盎格鲁-撒克逊标准有些动摇了。我仍然认为闯红灯不对，不过，在夜深之时，经过仔细查看确信没有交叉车流时，也许可以除外。毕竟，我是人，不是机器。

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